Draco, Fafnir and the Annoying Girl
by River in Egypt
Summary: As if life isn't bothersome enough, Draco needs to deal with weirdos everywhere. Thank Merlin, he has a faithful friend.
1. Home

_This story was written for the Dramione Remix 2014 over on LJ. My prompt couple was Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes and Susie. Now, there's no Calvin without Hobbes, ergo, there's an additional character. Given that the original was designed in comic strips, I'm using the same format. Please bear  
>with me if there are time and logical jumps (fully intentional) and some inconsistencies regarding canon. There are plenty citations from the original in this story. If it sounds familiar to Calvin and Hobbes aficionados, the credit goes to the ingenious Bill Watterson, who gave us the characters and made us laugh so much. If it's a funny dialogue, it was most likely designed by him, and only adapted to the Harry Potter world by me. <em>

_Lastly, a big thank you to mccargi, who not only betaed this fic but also had immense input in the development. Give her a big hand, folks, applause, applause._

_Warnings for the faint of heart: Some gorily snow figures, implied murder, threats to bodily harm Malfoy style, some name calling, mild insults_

_Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work._

Let the comic begin 

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Home<strong>

"There's a Mudblood girl in our class," the blond boy said into thin air while lifting his broom off the ground.

"Well. What's her name?" came a disembodied reply from behind him.

"Who knows?" The boy grimaced while guiding his broom higher into the sky. He hoped he'd done the Disillusionment and Sticking charm properly. There would be repercussions later from his father if he was caught on school grounds, flying his broom without permission.

"Is she nice?" the voice replied with a teasing lilt in its tone.

"Who cares? Not me!" the young wizard protested.

"Do you like her?" the voice answered slyly encouraging.

"**NO!" **The boy almost jumped off his broom in protest, ruffling his slicked-back hair with the sudden move.

"Aww, Draco. She must be something special." The 11-year-old could almost hear the grin on the face of his usually loyal companion.

Draco harrumphed. Tied with a sticking charm on the broom behind him sat his pet dragon; an animated miniature that breathed real fire if you tickled it on the belly, and moved about, and rolled up in a ball for sleep. It had been a gift from an aunt "of-whom-one-did-not-speak" when he was born. It had been in his crib, then his bed, then with him wherever he went as long as Draco could remember. At first, it was carried in plain sight; later, when he got older, disguised with a Disillusionment Charm.

At one point, his mother had tried to take it out of his crib with tears in her eyes, but Draco hadn't wanted to let go. He'd made such a fuss, screaming to bring the Manor down, that his father had come in and tiredly agreed to let the dragon stay.

"It's just a toy, Narcissa. He won't remember who gave it to him and why he never sees her around."

Draco had fallen asleep that night secure in the feeling that his companion would stay with him. He'd named him Fafnir after that. Instead of guarding a hoard of gold, it would protect him. 

* * *

><p>With a blink Draco's awareness registered his parent's presence. He whimpered in response.<p>

" ….but the Prewetts! They are well-known, Lucius. Are you sure about this?" He felt his mother bent over his crib, her voice anxious.

To his left, his father's reply came a lot harsher. "They are blood traitors, Cissi, and when the Dark Lord orders them gone, I'll do it." Draco whimpered again at the harshness.

"Shh, Lucius. You'll wake him. It took long enough to make him fall asleep. He never sleeps well with i him i/ around," came his mother's reprimanding voice. Then it took on a tearful tone. "Please, be careful, dear. They may be blood-traitors, but they are from a strong and abundant family, and now connected to the Weasleys."

Draco heard his father's reply, a snort and then a sharp remark full of derision. "The Weasleys. Don't worry, Narcissa. I'll be back before dawn. Close the floo when I'm gone. Just in case."

Draco felt his mother's hand on his head, stroking his thin blond hair. "Come back safely," his mother whispered from above as Draco heard a door clap, and then, oblivion claimed him again. 

* * *

><p>"Look, mum, what I got?"<p>

"What is it, Draco?"

"I caught a dragon!"

"Well done, honey. And how exactly did you catch it?"

"Easy, I set up a dragon trap."

"And how does that work, sweetheart?"

"You put a Galleon in a clearing and squeak like maiden witch in distress to draw its attention. Then, when it comes to pick up the gold, you jump on its back and hold its wings down so it can't fly away."

Narcissa Malfoy had a difficult time keeping a straight face, but she managed. She wasn't a born and raised pureblood witch for nothing.

"How ingenious, Draco."

"Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What am I going to do with it, now that I have it?"

At this, Narcissa allowed herself to smile indulgently. "Why, you could stuff it and put it in your room. Make sure you show your father when he comes home that you caught your own dragon today. He'll be very proud to have such a clever son."

"Of course, mother. Will you excuse me now? I have to talk to the house elves, see if they'll help me with the stuffing."

"Of course, Draco. Go on, now."

She wistfully watched her three-and-half-year-old son waddle out of the room, a pet dragon almost as big as him under one arm. She heard his clear voice calling for Bibi the house-elf, as he reached the entrance hall. What a vivid imagination he had, her little Malfoy heir. At his age, it was perfectly normal. She just hoped that he would develop a brilliant intelligence from it, just like his father. She also hoped a little that, unlike his father, he would be able to keep some of his childlike ardour, even when he grew older. This lovely innocence would be lost forever soon enough, if she knew the world they were living in - and she did. 

Later, in his room, Draco watched a horse-sized dragon munch on pumpkin pasties. In reality, the toy was roughly as large as a medium-sized dog. A Common Welsh Green miniature, it had the green scales and dark eyes of its race, but its skin was much softer than actual dragon hide. Made for children, the spikes and claws were blunted and the brown wings less forceful, constructed of a soft, pliable material. Magically enhanced, it exhibited all the behaviours of a real dragon, which included eating, sleeping, flying, roaring, and, last but not least, breathing magical fire - albeit in watered-down, child-appropriate versions to reduce the risk of actual harm. (The owner of the dragon pet toy production had quickly agreed that this was a necessary step after he proof-tested a prototype of his toy on his 6-year old rascal of a nephew. His wife's hair never grew back entirely, and he was forced to endure her biting sarcasm about certain aspects of his anatomy for the rest of his unfortunately long life.)

In Draco's vivid imagination, however, Fafnir was much larger and showed more actual dragon behaviour. His sharp teeth were made to rip his prey to shreds, his lashing tail could topple the sturdiest defences, the strong wings were made for flying, the heat of his fiery breath rivalled that of Fiendfyre, and, of course, he was much taller than his boy-companion was.

In his mind, Fafnir devoured the pasties so avidly that little flakes of shell flew everywhere, while Draco himself chewed slowly on his own piece. He didn't know how much a dragon needed and Bibi had supplied him with plenty, assuring him she would take the rest back if need be, because he wasn't allowed to eat more than one, or he would spoil his appetite for dinner. There would be hell to pay if he stuffed his face with pastry and his father found out.

Watching his dragon chomp down a whole danish per bite, devouring the entire lot, Draco thought with glee that there had to be more he could achieve with this dragon. Feeding him on sweets and candy, and diverting extras for himself, could be only one benefit. 

* * *

><p>"Hi, Father. Do you know why you haven't seen me all morning?" Draco ambled into his father's study where his father was apparently very busy looking over some paperwork. Tomes of books were distributed over the vast top of his desk.<p>

"… followed by an Imperius for better handling," he mumbled. "Hm, what, Draco?"

"I made myself invisible. Fafnir helped me to turn grandfather's old cloak into an Invisibility Cloak, and I roamed through the entire Manor undetected," Draco reported proudly.

Just then, his mother came in, accompanying a house-elf that carried a tea service on a tray for the Master's teatime. Before she could say a word of praise to her son, Lucius said, "Hm, I bet you cannot do that the entire afternoon, as well," while searching for something in a book on his right.

"Dear!" Draco's mother admonished her husband's very obvious attempt to get rid of the distraction before taking Draco out with her and closing the door behind them on her preoccupied husband. 

* * *

><p>"Come on, you take me on your back, like a horse, and off we go, flying."<p>

Fafnir huffed. "Certainly not. Do you take me for a mule?"

Draco frowned. "No, not a mule. But you're strong enough to carry me, aren't you?"

Fafnir was insulted and his reptile face showed it. "Don't be ridiculous; certainly, I'm strong enough. But I'm a dragon, and I won't be ridden. That's against the dragon codex."

Draco was intrigued. "Dragons have a codex?"

His companion sneered. "Of course we have a codex. We are a highly developed species, older than mankind and certainly not as stupid."

Affronted, Draco folded his arms over his chest. "Wizards are not stupid, they are powerful. We can brew powerful poisonous potions, breed Basilisks and Manticores, create powerful objects, cast unforgivable curses, hone hexes and jab jinxes to get rid of our enemies, in short, we are powerful enough to annihilate our entire species – oh."

Epiphany lighted Draco's small face and then, his posture slumped.

Fafnir simply held his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and, when it was clear Draco understood, he snickered. "You know, there are times when it's a source of personal pride to not be human," he said, his face set in pompous self-righteousness.

"I see what you mean," Draco admitted grumpily. "Well, can I become a dragon, then?"

Fafnir looked taken aback, before seeming to scrutinize his human friend. "I don't know. Being a dragon is more than just having scales and wings, you know."

"Can you teach me?" Draco asked eagerly.

Fafnir looked dubious. "Hm. You will always be lacking a certain panache. There are some things that simply cannot be taught. You have to i think /i like a dragon, too."

Draco growled. "'Roaar, I'm hungry. What's for dinner?' How's that?"

"Har har," Fafnir sneered. "Do you want me to teach you our dragon secrets or not?"

Draco was intrigued again. "Dragons have secrets?"

Fafnir grinned slyly. "Oh, yes, big secrets. You wouldn't believe."

"Well, tell me!"

"Big, secret secrets. If you only knew, hmhm."

"Tell me, Fafnir, tell me." Draco pleaded hanging from his friend's neck.

"I can't tell you. They are secrets."

"But I'm your best friend. I won't blab. You can tell me."

"Nope."

Draco pouted as only a six-year-old can. "I don't really think you know any secrets."

"That's right, I don't," Fafnir replied smugly and turned to leave.

"Yes, you do." Draco called his bluff. "Tell me! Please!"

Resolutely, Fafnir turned his snout away from his friend. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's about you."

"Aaahhh, tell me. What is it?"

"Do you know how your parents got you?"

Draco stopped short. "I was … what are you saying?"

"Something about the Dark Lord's power and breeding you from a house-elf."

Draco was enraged at the presumption. "I don't believe your stupid secret."

Fafnir stuck his tongue out. "It's true."

"It's not and if all your secrets are lies like that you can just keep them to yourself," Draco said indignantly.

Fafnir grinned self-importantly. "You just don't want to know how little your parents had to pay for you."

Draco consulted one of his books on magical beings. "Oh, hush. I can see that dragons are solitary and won't share their territory. Now, I can understand perfectly well why that is. One would imagine they get on each other's nerves." Bossily, he put his dragon close to the windows and went over to his bed. "So, you'll stay on that side of the room and I'll stay here with the bed. The line from the book shelf to the bathroom door is the boundary."

Fafnir saucily put one claw over the imaginary line. "Look what I'm dooo-ing."

"You cut that out," Draco yelled back at him. When Fafnir had pulled his limb back, sitting himself meekly under the window, Draco slouched down next to his bed and leafed through his book some more. After five minutes, he looked up.

"You know, Fafnir. I thought we would have more fun, as two dragons, but we are not. Here we are on opposite sides of the room and cannot share a territory. More importantly, it says here that dragons are close to extinction. I believe I'll go back to being a boy again, no offense."

"None taken, Draco," Fafnir said amicably. "I just wish we could all afford to switch sides so easily, changing our minds and choosing our friends as we wish." 

* * *

><p>"Draco."<p>

"Yes, Father?"

"What did I tell you about staying out of my study? What happened to my remembrall magical map? It's covered in ink!"

Agitated, Draco tried to make his father understand. "It wasn't me, Father. I told him not to, but Fafnir went inside and tried to sneak the indelible ink out and then … um…"

"Draco!" The icy tone in his father's voice should have been enough of a warning, but it went unheeded as Draco forged on with his explanation.

"Um, hm, a wild horde of Centaurs barged in, and before I could stop them, they went straight to the study, hm, …."

"One more try, boy!" Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes threateningly, waiting out the next lie in the making; for he was sure it would come.

Draco took another deep breath to tell his father the whole truth. "Mudbloods, father. I don't know how they managed, but they stormed in from the fireplace, using the floo, and before I could tell them to get out, they Imperiused me and made me do it."

Later in his room, lying on his bed because he couldn't sit on his mistreated backside, Draco complained to his draconian companion. "Fat lot of help you were with getting me out of trouble for i your /i fun."

"Oh, shush," Fafnir replied, pouting on his pillow. "Served you right. I wish you would stop pinning your stupid ideas on me." 

* * *

><p>"And he scores! 10 points to Slytherin!" Draco jubilated.<p>

"You did not! You forgot to touch the post upside down before you put the Quaffle in." Fafnir nagged.

"I did so! You, in turn, didn't hit the ground with your tail before you chased me."

"I did too! But you forgot to circle the dandelion back there before flying straight for the hoop. That's obstacle 23."

"No, it's not! It's obstacle 15. Obstacle 23 is the quacking duck back in the pond, which, by the way, has flown away, I might add."

Fafnir folded his arms over his chest. His wings flapped on his back, holding him 50 feet up in the air while facing his human companion on his broom. "That's 35. You keep forgetting the obstacles, and you're doing them out of order, too. This goal doesn't count."

"What's the score?"

"It's still 300 to 41."

"It is not! I cannot be over 200 points behind you!"

"Then keep track yourself. I get the Quaffle." Fafnir grinned.

"It's so not fair that I'm not a dragon and cannot fly as well as you," Draco grumbled when his friend grabbed the ball out of his hands and scooted to the hoop in a straight line, thereby equally disobeying all the rules they had recently made up. 

* * *

><p>"Narcissa?"<p>

"Yes, dear?"

Lucius stood breathless in front of his wife of many years, having hastened inside to find her. "Did you see the manoeuvres Draco is flying with his broom?"

Narcissa laughed at her husband's excitement. She rarely got to see this side of him, he was always so composed. "I only took a quick peek outside. Tinky is watching him. He's really doing well, isn't he?"

Lucius beamed, lighting up his face under his blond hair in a way that made him look like an angel. Narcissa adored this so much; it made her fall in love with her husband all over again. "I'll say," he said with laughter in his voice. "And he's only six years old. This dragon miniature of his, …"

"Fafnir", Narcissa inserted evenly.

"Yes, Fafnir." Lucius picked up the name without paying it too much attention, a grin dominating his face, caught in thoughts about his flying son. "It's flying with him, well, as much as a magical miniature can do. Of course, it cannot catch the Quaffle, but Draco is flying and weaving around it, throwing and catching the Quaffle, avoiding the Bludgers, as if he plays every position, and as if he's never done anything else. He's commenting, too. I think he even invented some new rules. Multi-talented, that boy. I don't know whether he's better as Chaser or Seeker. I simply can't tell."

Narcissa beamed back. "Perhaps he'll end up becoming a professional Quidditch player."

Lucius' excitement was palpable, and it made Narcissa giddy. "I'll say. I'll get him a try-out when he does well his first years at Hogwarts, if it's the last thing I do." He laughed aloud in exuberance.

"I'm so proud of him," Narcissa mused.

Lucius answered with a chuckle. "You have all reason to be. Our boy is going to be great."

Then he left with a skip in his step, and Narcissa watched his retreating back while enjoying his overwhelmingly good mood. 

* * *

><p>On his knees, hidden in the darkness of the deserted hallway before the parlour, Draco slowly pulled back, creeping step by step without a sound, Fafnir silently flapping above him. As soon as he reached the corner, he leapt to his feet and raced back to his room, barely holding his giggles until he closed the door behind his friend and himself. Safely in the room, they burst out laughing, excited over their successful sneaking about the Manor at night when they should be asleep in bed.<p>

Draco flopped down on his carpet, catching his breath from the running and the excitement. "Did you hear, Fafnir?

"How could I not have?" Fafnir gasped, equally breathless from the dash to Draco's room.

_The light from the fire and a few candles bathed the three wizards lounging in cosy armchairs in treacherous warmth. Barely able to see them against the backdrop of the dark leather, Draco did his utmost to stay completely silent in order not to be heard._

_"I ran into Weasley the other day. Can you believe he didn't even have the restraint to let me pass first? He and his brood took up so much room; I had to change the sides of the promenade."_

_"And why would he do that, Yaxley," Draco's father drawled, "if he thinks he's perfectly in the right?"_

_The addressed wizard snorted. "In the right, my foot. If the Dark Lord were still among us, Weasley and his Muggle-loving ways would be the first to go." T_

_he third wizard just swirled his Firewhisky in his tumbler, making the ice-cubes clink against the glass. For some odd reason, it reminded Draco of the sound of metal meeting metal in flight. "Quiet, Yaxley. We dare not speak of him; it is disrespectful to speak so casually before we have brought about his return. Bellatrix would have you on your knees for it."_

_"Well, she's not here, is she?" Yaxley replied heatedly._

_Lucius stopped him with a raised hand but addressed the other man. "I thank you for not giving orders in my house, Avery."_

_Avery tilted his head in acquiescence. "But of course, Malfoy. More to the point, how is it going, the bringing him back?"_

_Now it was Lucius' turn to answer heatedly. "You know quite well, it's not going at all. Whatever the Potter boy did to him not only killed but also made him disappear. I've searched high and low, but there's not a trace of him."_

_Avery put a finger over his closed mouth, stroking his moustache. "Hm-hm, just how high and how low have you really searched, Malfoy?"_

_Lucius replied with a stern glance. "Higher and lower than you, I can assure you. I was not aware that you searched at all, my friend."_

_Somehow, Draco didn't have the feeling this Avery guy was a friend, at all. When his father used this kind of tone, he wasn't really on good terms with you.  
>Yaxley barked a laugh. "Mudbloods got in your way, Avery?"<em>

_"They sure did," Avery bit back. "As they continue to clog up the Ministry, you stumble over them at every turn. It's a miracle we haven't been contaminated by their germs."_

_Lucius chuckled. "They are so easy to blame, aren't they? But in all honesty, as long at this Muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore, has his hold on Hogwarts and, through Fudge, the Ministry we will be thwarted wherever we turn. With the Minster's current agenda for "tolerance" we have to be very politic, keep a low profile, and search rather quietly, as you well know, both of you, which, of course, is the very reason why we haven't tried to free my dear sister-in-law and the others yet."_

_"It still makes me sick to think that your boy will have to share his education with all these base Mudbloods and Half-bloods. Isn't there anything you can do, Malfoy?"_

_Lucius smiled benignly and sighed. "Afraid not. I would send him to Karkaroff at Durmstrang, but Narcissa won't have Draco so far away. Who am I to oppose the heart of a mother of the purest of pure blood, my lovely wife?"_

_Avery shook his head and spat, "I'm just glad I don't have any children. This country is going to the dogs with Mudblood supporters like Dumbledore and without the Dark Lord around to keep the Mudbloods in check, mark my words."_

"What do you make of it, Fafnir?"

"Beats me, but this Potter must have superpowers if he can beat this Dark Lord that your parents admire and fear so much."

"They don't fear him. My father's not afraid of anything. Although, the Dark Lord has the right ideas, my father said, and they want what he wants -to defeat the Mudbloods."

Draco wasn't quite sure what a "Dark Lord" was, but the boy felt the respect his parents had for who- or whatever it was. He remembered power seeping through the Manor when he was very little. It had felt awkward, uncomfortable, cry-worthy. Now, he knew it was the Mudbloods' fault.

"Ha, I have superpowers, too. I'm a pureblood, just like Mother and Father. We rule the world, that's what Father said, as we should. Draco the Powerful Pureblood Warlock, Defender of Liberty, Annihilator of all things Muggle, and Pursuer of World Domination for all things Magic. Ha-HAAAA!"

Fafnir looked very sceptical, but Draco dove into his closet with gusto. "A cape, I need a cape. And a mask. To stay in-cog-nito."

Gruffly, Fafnir made his doubts known. "Why do you care that nobody knows your identity? Except for the obvious reason of them laughing themselves silly over your antics, of course."

Draco thought. His forehead screwed up, he contemplated the benefits of a hidden identity. Finally, he shrugged and said, "Perhaps you have to stay anonymous to be able to lead a quiet life when you take a break from saving the world. You know? So, you don't get run-down by fans wanting a piece of you. We Malfoys are quite a catch, my father said. I'm sure some girls will try.

Besides, my father runs around with a mask over his head, too, remember? When he goes chasing the Muggles and Mudbloods? I'm sure there's a good reason. Besides, we can have all kinds of adventures when nobody knows who we are, and we blame it on our alter egos. We'll just say 'It was the Clever Conjurer, not meek and obedient Draco. You got the wrong guy."

Fafnir peeked through half-closed eyelids at his friend. "As long as you don't try to blame it on _me_ again."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, we are all set. So, seen any purebloods who need help against the evil Mudbloods lately?" 

* * *

><p>"May I be excused?" Sitting in the dining room, at the head of the majestic dining table with settings for possible thirty diners, Draco squirmed in his seat.<p>

His mother looked up from her meal and saw his untouched dish. "You haven't finished your cured-kelpie pie, so, no, you have to remain seated," she replied.

Draco frowned. "I know. I don't like it very much. It looks like mushed doxy poop in a covered pastry shell."

His mother frowned. "Draco, language! And you haven't even tried it yet."

At her irritated tone of voice, his father looked up from his plate and fixed him with a stern gaze. "Eat. It's good for you."

Grumbling, Draco picked up his fork and staked a pie piece on it. Carefully, he tipped his tongue against a prominent part of the filling and dropped his utensil immediately, using both hands to enclose his throat. He coughed and gagged desperately, pretending a poisonous reaction. His parents watched and waited with equivalent frowns and raised eyebrows until his coughing fit subsided.

"See?" he wheezed. "I tried. I almost died from the reaction. I just can't eat it when something tastes so disgusting."

While his mother rolled her eyes and looked away, aware of the confrontation that was coming, his father took the lead in disciplining and said, "Finish up, Draco. I won't have you waste what your mother so carefully planned for the house-elves to prepare for lunch."

"But, fa-ather, if I don't like it …?"

Lucius gave his only son a glare and said resolutely, "Eat. It'll build character."

"Why do I always have to build character when you cannot convince me?" Draco griped while poking in his unwanted food.

His father brooked no argument. "Because you need the right character to follow in my footsteps. To become the master of the Malfoy estate, you cannot be a weakling who lives on fairy cakes and honey, talking to flowers or pet animals. You have to be firm, decisive, and indomitable. Kelpie meat is hard to come by, tough as unicorn hair, and only a powerful man like myself can procure some. It doesn't matter that it tastes worse than doxy excrement; its magic will strengthen our magic."

Draco had listened to his father's outburst with wide eyes, until now. He frowned. "I thought we were already powerful pureblood wizards," he replied.

Lucius frowned at his counter-talk, but wanted to make his point. It was important Draco understood his place in the world. "We are. We are very powerful, indeed, bred and raised over hundreds of years of marrying pureblood to pureblood from the best and purest families. We are as close as you can become to magical invincibility."

"Are we under attack?" Draco anxiously asked.

Lucius scoffed. "Don't be silly, who would attack us? We are the Malfoys, our reputation precedes us. Nobody would dare."

Draco little faced screwed up in deep thought. "Then why would be need to be invincible if nobody would ever attack us?"

Lucius exchanged an exasperated glance with his wife, which said as much as "Why am I being interrogated by _your_ son?" then answered with slight irritation. "Just in case, Draco. There are all kinds of people who would like to show that they are stronger than us and take away what we have. Because we have a lot, you know?"

"We have a lot?"

Lucius was proud to say, "Yes, my son, the Malfoy estate is immense. We are, as they so unsophisticatedly say, rich, and due to our wealth, we can do pretty much as we please."

"Like putting Mudbloods in their place?"

Lucius hesitated infinitesimally. It wasn't prudent to speak so freely and irreverently of Muggleborns and other lower magical beings. On the other hand, it was vital to teach Draco what was due to him because of his pure heritage. Now, how to explain this to a seven-year-old? Lucius decided to avoid the complication for now.

"Do not speak this way, Draco, I forbid you. We can get into trouble if we speak this way. Always be polite."

Cheekily, Draco replied, "I thought we can do as we please?"

"Draco!" His mother intervened at his disrespectful tone toward his father.

Draco frowned. "What? Father said we can do as we please, and now we cannot speak as we please? That doesn't seem right."

Lucius started to sweat profusely. Why was talking to children so difficult? He had enough. "I tried to let you in on our little family wisdom, but now I can see that you are not mature enough for it. Forget what I said. If I ever hear you speak about it, there will be severe consequences. You are excused from the table."

Draco was confused. "What, just because I asked a question about what to do with the Mudbloods? I take it there's no qualifying exam to be a father."

Verbally maneuvered into a corner by open child-talk, Lucius shouted, "That does it, young man. You are excused to your room. No sweets for tea and no dinner for you."

Draco sneered while getting up from his chair and slapped his napkin on the table. Luckily, he was quick to exit the room before his father gathered enough air to find a reply.

Draco made straight for his room, as ordered, and slammed the door behind him. Fafnir, lounging on Draco's bed, looked up in surprise. "What's with you? I thought you were at lunch."

Taking off his dinner jacket and tie and throwing them on the floor (where Tiffy would collect them later), Draco threw out heatedly, "If I had any saying in who gets to be dad around here, I certainly wouldn't choose my father."

Then he threw himself on his bed, lengthwise, where he let Fafnir pat his head consolingly while he fumed. 

* * *

><p>"What's this?"<p>

Draco looked cautiously at the girl in front of him. She was about his age and pretty enough, he thought, except for her pug-like nose, which made her face always look a little puckered up; as if she had a bad taste in her mouth and always tried to purge it by blabbering. He considered carefully how much he could tell her about the preening dragon in his arms, which she scrutinized curiously.

"Why, it's a miniature dragon. A Common Welsh Green, as you can…"

"Yes, I can see it's a Common Welsh Green miniature," the girl interrupted in exasperation, rolling her eyes ostensibly. "Don't be so literal. I wondered why you brought it here, though, on a visit to my home."

Yep, he was sure, this girl was not to be trusted with confidential knowledge. He would have to go with plan B.

"Well, do _you_ have one?" he replied with a prominent sneer. When she didn't say anything, only eyed him carefully, he ploughed on. "No? I didn't think so. That's why I brought it. I thought you would like to see what wonderful treasures the Malfoys have."

This girl wasn't easily fooled. "Excuse me? You call this a treasure? If it was made entirely from emerald, I would think about it but a simple miniature?" She smiled maliciously. "Unless it's a treasure to _you_, you mean?" Fafnir spit fire in her direction.

Before he could start to panic or do damage control, they were interrupted by their fathers' coming. "Pansy, everything alright?" a deep male voice said. When a man with a pug-like nose came around the corner, Draco knew he was faced with this girl's father or close uncle. Father was more likely, given the fact that his father accompanied the previously mentioned man.

"Yes, Daddy." The girl confirmed Draco's suspicion and her name to him when she turned to the men with a brilliant smile on her face. "Draco was just showing me his 'pet dragon', and it's so cute. Can I hold him, Draco?" She had turned back to him, turning her back on the men, and her brilliant smile had once again turned malicious. Draco swallowed. This girl was trouble.

He was saved by his father. "It's not a pet dragon," Lucius Malfoy thundered in a tone that would have made ice quite unnecessary in an icehouse. The girl, Pansy, winced and shivered.

"It may look like one of Oglethorpe's animal toys, but I can assure you, it's a powerful magical object, endowed by a Gong Tau Master with ancient, sentient magic. I brought it back from business in China and gave it to Draco as a gift," Lucius thundered on. "And I thank you, girl, for not _insinuating_ that my son has any 'pets.'" He spat the last word. Then he turned to the man next to him. "Perhaps, we should re-consider, Parkinson, whether it is wise to match our children. Your girl seems a bit on the impudent side. A Malfoy man cannot suffer a wife who would embarrass him in public with tactlessness."

"Not at all, not at all, Lucius," the other man, Parkinson, said hastily. "Pansy is a well-bred and raised pureblood girl. She's just a little, well, like a rough diamond, you see? But that's to be expected at her age. They are only 10 years old, after all. Give her a few more years and you'll see; she'll be as perfect, intelligent, and refined a pureblood wife as you, and your boy, could wish for. Won't you, Pansy?" Parkinson turned to his daughter with a threatening gleam in his eyes. When Pansy didn't respond immediately but only stared at her father in surprise, he inquired in a deeper tone, "Pansy?"

The girl shook herself out of her stupor and made a graceful curtsy. "Yes, Father. Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I would never think of embarrassing Draco anywhere."

Lucius was not quite assured. "Hm. Be that as it may, I won't finalize the contract today. I would like some time to think about it and observe a few years longer. _If_ she turns out to my, and Draco's, satisfaction we will pick up negotiations again."

Parkinson was obviously disappointed, but he had no choice other than to nod compliantly. "Very well, Lucius. If that is your wish…"

"It is," Lucius Malfoy replied brusquely. "Come, Draco, we are done here for today. Good day to you, Parkinson. Best regards to your wife. We'll meet again." He did a half turn to the girl who still stood in front of Draco and gave her a sharp nod. "Pansy." Then he looked sharply at his son.

Draco knew his father well enough not to question anything in this moment. He nodded back, said his farewell to Mr. Parkinson and to Pansy, and followed his father from the house. 

At an appropriate distance from the front entrance, his father held out his arm, and Draco grabbed it for side-along apparition back to Malfoy Manor. They landed in a sufficient distance from the entrance to give them time for a talk before facing Draco's mother.

While Draco was aware that his father had saved him from uncomfortable questions coming from this meddlesome and presumptuous girl, Pansy, a thought nagged on his mind regarding something his father had said while defending him. They walked for a few meters in silence, and then Draco couldn't contain his curiosity anymore.

"Father?"

Lucius was deep in thought, but he reacted to his son's address. "Hm?"

"You would tell me if you were trying to arrange anything that would change my life dramatically, wouldn't you?"

Lucius exhaled sharply, then answered the unspoken question with a side-glance to his heir, "I was trying to make a successful betrothal for you, Draco, yes."

Draco's throat closed up, then re-opened on a scream. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuughhhhh…."

His father huffed in exasperation. "Draco, this is the way of the world. Your parents find you a good wife of noble blood, you marry when you reach maturity, have other pureblood children, and increase your wealth and political influence to further your societal standing."

"….aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh…."

Lucius continued as if Draco wasn't screaming at the top of his voice. "With the choice of your wife, and her family I might add, you try to make your social standing more solid, have more influence. It's always about having a bigger piece of the cake."

" …aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggh…"

Now slightly irritated, Lucius ploughed on, perhaps a little more frank with his son than he would usually be, due to the unusual strain on his nerves. "That doesn't mean you cannot be happy in your marriage. Look at your mother and me. I highly respect and cherish her, and she respects me. We have a very healthy relationship, and we've been betrothed as well. There's nothing so bad about it."

"…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhh…"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Draco, take a breath before you pass out," Lucius snarled.

Draco gasped. "That's the way of the world? Pick a wife, have offspring, and further your income?" he wheezed with barely enough air to provide for his dizzy brain.

His father paused for a second, looked far away over the estate that he inherited from his father, who inherited it from his father, and so on, and so on, and then said, "No, but the truth is more complicated. This will do for now, just so you know what's expected from you."

Draco had a little fit. "Why this girl? Apart from her facial deformity, did you see her nose, she was mean. She looked at me as if I was a freak for carrying a dragon miniature around."

Lucius threw him another sidelong glance. "Well, about that …"

Draco looked up at his father pleadingly, ignoring his previously started statement. "Can't we make an exception for me, in this case? Do I have to marry when I'm grown up?"

Lucius shook his head. "Sorry, son, no exceptions; especially, since you are the last of this line. I had a brother when I grew up, so the responsibility was not entirely on my shoulders. He died when he was 16, so the lot did fall to me, in the end. But you are _it_. You shall inherit everything here, and you will need a wife. Get used to the idea."

Draco's posture slumped, and he dragged his feet in defeat. His father patted his shoulder in consolation. "Try not to worry about it now. You still have another year before you start Hogwarts, then seven years of education before you even have to think about marrying and settling. I expect you to ace your classes, however."

Draco nodded.

Lucius smiled in remembrance of his own school days. "They'll be teaching Potions, and Charms, and Transfiguration, and Divination, and all the important areas in our life. It will be so enlightening, even though the education has gotten worse since my days, ever since Dumbledore took the reins. Why, they even introduced Muggle Studies, and I halfway expect him to make you do practical exercises. Do let me know if it comes to that, will you, Draco? I cannot have a Malfoy work as a Muggle. I do have some influence as a school governor. I can get you out of it. Understood? Make sure you tell me anything fishy that goes on at Hogwarts."

Draco nodded again and made a mental note: tell father, he could fix anything.

His father continued. "Your godfather is the Potions' Master, a very noble profession, and the Malfoys have their family members who were good at potions. So, I'll expect you to get the highest grades, understood?"

Draco stared. Somewhere between "potion" and "profession" his attention had drifted. Now it was focused on a strange, tall, otherworldly being that kept talking calmly. However, all Draco heard was, "Garble, gronk, garble garble." It was, however, he understood, important to nod at certain points of pause. So he did.

The tall being with long blond hair waved its arm over the landscape dramatically, declaring something passionately, but its sermon only dribbled through in singular words. "… Malfoy legacy … social standing …. only heir … Dark Lord … return …. our contribution ….high praise …"

Draco nodded again as the pause seemed to indicate this was a good time. The pause stretched, so Draco figured it was as good an indication as they came to ask his own question, regarding his future at the hands of the being. "So, what do you want from me?"

The being looked at him with doleful eyes. Draco knew this was it: the human sacrifice was upon him. He readied Fafnir in his arm, to throw a dragon-made fireball at his potential attacker.

" … therefore, your dragon has to stay home."

The shock on Draco's face made even a man as composed as Lucius Malfoy hurriedly assure his son that he still had time. It wasn't meant to be right the next day.

To no avail. Draco's features darkened as his steeled his resolve. "I'm not going to any school if Fafnir cannot come with me. I hate school."

Lucius sighed and looked up to the sky. "I should spend more time in my study. I could get so much work done." 

* * *

><p>"Narcissa?"<p>

"Yes, Lucius?"

"May I have a word with you?"

"Of course, dear. Is this about Draco and Fafnir?"

Lucius Malfoy was a man of the world. He wasn't easily intimidated, one might even say he fought with the meanest, and nothing much scared him. However, the thought of his son, his only son, starting the ancient and fairly noble - even if one considered that there _were_ schools much more inclined to put the right emphasis on the _proper_ education of young wizards - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a few months' time with a miniature dragon under his arm like a pet filled him with trepidation; even more so than the time the Dark Lord had ordered him to arrange the demise of the Prewetts.

He would not be embarrassed because the Malfoy heir needed a crutch. Something must be done.

"Yes," he admitted on a vehement exhale. "His dragon pet. By Salazar, he even named the beast. When is he going to give it up, you think?"

Narcissa gave her husband an unsure smile. "When he's ready?"

"And when, dare I ask, will that be? Next week? Next month? Surely it won't last beyond the summer?" Lucius looked at his wife with a mixture of exasperation and desperation. People who didn't know him would have seen the icily raised eyebrow as a sign of threat, but Narcissa knew her husband. The anticipation of Draco embarrassing the family scared him shitless.

Narcissa Malfoy knew the reason for his fear. While the Dark Lord was gone, his dogma hadn't disappeared and Lucius Malfoy was one of the leading minds who kept the movement going. If it became known how much time his son and heir spent with an imaginary friend in form of a pet dragon instead of real kids and was, perhaps, even a bit dependent on this psychological crutch, Lucius would lose all credibility. The Malfoy reputation was only as strong as the power of the family members to maintain it. A laughing stock could not be a leader who frightens you into obeisance.

Yet, she also knew her son. His "friend", Fafnir, had helped Draco over many a sleepless night, in particular in his first year. One would think that a babe in the crib wouldn't understand what's going on around the house, but Draco knew. Being an innocent babe, he had felt the darkness brewing in his home. Narcissa could pinpoint the nights he woke up and cried implacably - when a meeting took place in Malfoy Manor. She was very reluctant to simply rip Draco's comfort away from him like an old plaster, especially since she was convinced that he would grow out of it sooner or later. However, she was certain it would take rather longer if she forced the issue. Now, how to tell that to her impatient husband?

"I'll talk to him," she offered reluctantly. "We still have a few months. If I explain, he may understand that he cannot take Fafnir to school. Without him at school, he will have to let go sooner or later."

Lucius relaxed visibly. "Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Let me know how it goes and if you need a strong male hand."

Narcissa nodded despite herself. A strong male hand was the last thing she would need. She would have to negotiate a middle ground.

"Yes, dear."

His relief palpable, Lucius Malfoy stroked his wife's silky hair and returned to his study. If he never had to deal with the education of children again, it would still be too soon. Narcissa would handle it well, he knew that much. That's all that counted. 

* * *

><p>"Fafnir, I've decided to be a fatalist," Draco said, flying on his broom over the vast property that belonged to the Malfoy Estate. His faithful dragon flew right beside him, his massive wings flapping lazily to keep the mutual pace. "All events are preordained and unalterable," Draco added. "Whatever will be will be. That way, if anything bad happens, it's not my fault. It's fate."<p>

Fafnir blew a blaze of his fire in front of him, barely missing Draco's broomstick. "Are you sure?" He blew his fire again, getting so close this time that Draco had to make a quick turn, barely escaping and almost catapulting into the air. "What the heck, Fafnir?" he exclaimed.

Fafnir grinned. "So, when I put my flame to your broom, and it burns up, and you fall to your death, I'd say 'It's too bad you were fated to die'?"

Draco gasped for air, aware that he had almost fallen to his death. "That's not fate! That's betrayal of the worst kind!"

"Oh, really?" Fafnir smirked. "Methinks your logic only applies to bad things happening because _you_ made them happen. And not if bad things happen _to_ you. Hm?"

Draco wiggled, pushing himself up to right his seat on his broomstick. "You mean fate only applies when, for example, I smash my mother's favourite vase with a bat and a Bludger when playing inside the house even though I'm not allowed, and not when, for example, this Dark Lord comes back, and I have to help him get rid of the Muggles because my parents always did?"

Fafnir shook his massive head, making his ears flap. "No, I mean fate happens when, for example, you meet a person and are instantly fascinated by him or her, and this person is supposed to mean something to you; not when somebody tells you something, and you believe it without question because you think it's fate. If you have a choice, if you can decide to act differently, if you can think for yourself, it's not fate."

Draco sniffed. "I hear our destinies are controlled by the stars."

Fafnir exclaimed resolutely, "No, I think we can do whatever we want with our lives."

Draco huffed. "Not the way Mother and Father tell it." 

* * *

><p>"Draco, dear?"<p>

"Yes, Mother?"

"What are your plans for Fafnir when you go to Hogwarts after the summer?"

Her little boy paled. Of course, at eleven he wasn't really little anymore. On the contrary, he had grown to be quite a strapping young lad, a little on the pale and lanky side, but those things grew out, didn't they? Yes, Narcissa was sure her boy would grow up to be just as handsome as his father, if not more so. He would fill out when the time came.

However, with regards to his dragon he was still a little boy.

"Why, take him with me?" he offered reluctantly. His shifting eyes looking for an escape showed more than his stiff posture did that this was a less than pleasant conversation for him.

Narcissa felt sorry for him, but something had to be done. "To do what exactly, Draco?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly but Narcissa wasn't fooled; this was a very important topic for him.

"He could sit on my bed and wait for me to come back from class?"

Narcissa grimaced. She had expected this, but it was still difficult to hear it spoken aloud. She bent down to her son and fixed him with her strongest parental glare.

"Dragons are not allowed inside Hogwarts, Draco. Besides, what will the other boys say when they see a plush dragon in your bed? You will be a Slytherin, just like the rest of us, and Slytherins don't have pets, especially not plush ones."

Draco lowered his gaze to the floor, but his voice was firm with conviction. "Fafnir is not plush. He's a fierce dragon. The other kids should be afraid of him if they know what's good for them. If they so much as lay a finger on me, he'll rip them apart and eat them for breakfast, that's what he'll do."

Narcissa sighed. It was a larger problem than she previously thought. Worse, she wasn't sure if Draco, having basically grown up with few interactions with other little witches and wizards, except for the occasional meetings with other pureblood families, was able to hold his own against the other kids. As a Malfoy, he had been inducted into thinking he was something special, only it hadn't quite panned out the way his parents wished. Instead, he had considered himself special because he was the only child who had a dragon for a play companion. Narcissa sighed again.

What to do?

"Don't you think Fafnir would get bored, waiting all day long for you to come back? Then you have homework and study times and many more things, you won't be able to take him along because he would be discovered and then put in a cage. You would have to hide him constantly, and he could be hurt if they discover him. Do you want that?"

Draco's body language showed quite clearly that he didn't. Her son was distraught at the idea that his friend would suffer because of him, but also at the thought of leaving him behind. It was a lose-lose situation.

"But I cannot leave him here either, Mum, he'll be so bored without me, and he'll read all my 'Mighty Magus' books. He always bends back the covers and puts them out of order."

Narcissa hugged him. Feeling his small body quiver in his upset made her heart clench, but he had to grow up eventually.

Pulling back, she looked him in the eye. "Draco, I believe you should get used to the thought that Fafnir stays here when you go."

"But, mum, …!"

She put on her stern face. "No, Draco, think about it. He's a dragon, he can take care of himself and he has much more freedom when he stays here. He can hunt and go out to fly. You can write him and when you come home for vacation, he will be here waiting for you."

"But my books!"

Narcissa's face softened. "I'll make sure he doesn't harm your books, alright? I'll put Tinky up to the task to check every night that the books are in order, yes?"

Draco knew when his opinion was being overruled and so he did what he had been taught to do. He said, "Yes, Mother."

Narcissa Malfoy sighed with relief. She knew this wasn't the last conversation they would have, but it was a start. "Good. Now, go and enjoy the time you still have with him."

"Okay, Mother," Draco replied, suddenly docile and quiet. Narcissa was pleased and left his room with a reassuring smile to her only son. He nodded back absently while his mind was already churning, devising plans to smuggle Fafnir in his trunk and ways to hide him at Hogwarts. Oh, the adventure it would be. 

* * *

><p>"I won't fit in your trunk, what do you think I am, a midget?"<p>

"Well, it's a magical trunk, alright? And it's the extra special edition, it even shrinks full-size animals, it says here, "For the liberated witch and wizard and their familiars." It shrinks everything. And, …, here, I'll charm you smaller, and then you fit. It's only for a couple of hours, until we get there."

Fafnir pouted and lifted his snout in refusal. "No, no, it's a matter of personal pride for a dragon, not to be shut in a trunk. You can't make me."

"Well, do you want to stay here all year long, until I come back?" Draco yelled. "Because that's your alternative, you know?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy. You should have thought of a solution earlier, then, shouldn't you?"

"Perhaps, but it's too late now to whine over doxies in the drapes," Draco regaled his companion. "You either let me shrink you and hide in the trunk, or you'll have to stay behind."

Fafnir looked at his human with narrowed eyes. "And why can't you disillusion me and carry me as you usually do?"

"How would that look? Even if you are invisible, they would still see me carrying something around. How do you think my parents figured out you were still with me? That's a stupid idea." Draco huffed.

Fafnir crossed his front paws against his chest and raised his snout again. "Well, think of something else, I'm not sitting in the trunk."

"Arrgghhh, why do you have to be so stubborn?" Draco tore at his hair in exasperation. "I wish I had a normal pet, like a tiger or something. I would lock him in a cage and that's the end of it. Why do I get stuck with an inveterate dragon?"

Fafnir smiled grimly. "Stuck? Consider yourself lucky that I stayed, boy. Other kids don't have pet dragons, ever wonder why? We cannot stand kids, at all. Boys don't smell that good, for one." 

* * *

><p><em>Apologies. I had to figure out again how to deal with ffnet's way to make a fic readable. I hope this is better, now.<em>


	2. Hogwarts and beyond

Chapter 2: Hogwarts and beyond 

"Hey you, _I'll_ take that bed in the corner. I need more space for my dragon companion."

The thickset boy looked up at Draco, then stretched to his full size and took a deep breath to enhance his breast. "And who are you to tell me anything?" A second boy, smaller with a low forehead, came up to the side of the first boy.

Draco didn't feel out of sort at all. "I'm Draco Malfoy and I'm entitled to the best bed in the room. I have first choice because I have..."

The thickset boy didn't seem that impressed at first and cracked his knuckles. The second boy grinned broadly. Draco was about to finish his sentence and pull Fafnir out of his trunk, setting him on these unsophisticated apes when, suddenly, both boys cowered, looking anxiously over Draco's shoulder.

"What's going on, here?" came a deep, stern voice from behind Draco. The swish of a cloak and the unmistakable feeling of authority in the room made the two other boys take a step back and Draco look up in surprise.

The thickset boy spoke first. "Professor Snape, we were just negotiating who gets which bed. Draco Malfoy, here, insisted he gets the best bed in the corner."

Snape frowned. Lucius' warning from an earlier Floo-call firm in his mind, he knew he would have to do everything in his power to protect Draco against ridicule from his peers. His godson's obsession with his imaginary friend had not ceased and, until it had, he, Snape, would have to keep a steady eye on the goings-on.

"That appears quite alright to me, Mr. Goyle. I'll have no quarrels like this in my house, so you'd better sort this out without any 'discussions'." Snape's icy tone of voice left no doubt that there would be serious, uncomfortable consequences if his directions were not followed.

When Draco went, with a satisfied grin, to set up camp in the corner bed, Snape fixed Goyle on the spot with a penetrating glance.

"In fact, I'd advise you to stay on Draco's good side, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe. Draco's father, after all, is one of the school governors, and Draco is, among other things, my godson. The Malfoy family is quite high up in the ranks. As a Slytherin, I expect you to consider your loyalties quite carefully."

With a last sharp glare that went through Goyle's and Crabbe's thick skulls like a knife through soft butter, Snape turned with his customary cloak swish, leaving Goyle and Crabbe standing like sheep in front of an open gate: flummoxed and unable to take the extra step to freedom.

"Um," Crabbe ventured. "My father often speaks with high respect of the Malfoys. Perhaps we should …"

Goyle shook out his shoulders. "Yeah, we should."

Ambling over to Draco who had, unbeknownst to them, just set the Disillusioned Fafnir in a corner at the top of his bed, making it look like he was fluffing up his pillow, they both stretched out their hands synchronically.

"Hi, Draco. My name is Crabbe; this is Goyle. Need some friends?" 

When Crabbe and Goyle were gone, hands shaken and partnership established, Draco rolled on his bed, laughing. "Boy, you sure scared them off. You were great, mate."

Fafnir growled after the disappeared boys and let some wads of smoke escape from his nostrils. "Don't you dare call me a pet. Yeah, you bubs."

With a pacifying pat to the head, he said to Draco, "Sure thing. It's isn't every kid who has a dragon for a friend." 

* * *

><p>A few days later, Draco sat in the library.<p>

"Hi, my name is Hermione Granger. Mind if I sit with you for the study session today?" Without waiting for his reply, the girl with the impossibly curly hair put her book bag, which looked like it contained half the library, on his table, shoving his stack of books to the side.

Draco frowned at her over the intrusion. "Yes, I do mind. Go sit somewhere else."

The girl smiled. "Aren't you a grumpy one? What are you reading, anyway?"

"How to blow up unwelcome visitors," Draco mumbled while turning back to his book. She plopped down on the chair next to him, completely undisturbed by his lack of friendly reply.

"The food here is really different from what I had in my old school. I had pumpkin soup for lunch today. What did you have?"

"Minced Acromantula pie," Draco groused, unnerved by the girl's insistence to stay.

"Ewww, you did not. Don't be disgusting." Draco looked up at her tone and stared into wide brown eyes. It was a lovely brown, just like Fafnir's wings, all soft and squishy. It alerted him that there was fun to be had with this obstinate girl. What was her name again? Hermione? He snorted mentally. An annoying girl with a completely uncool name.

He grinned. "Yeah, I dietary order, my mother made sure I get it every day. If I'm lucky, I find a piece of leg or two. I really like to suck on those hairy pointy appendages." With glee he noticed the girl's disgust and saw her taking a deep breath to complain about his unsuitable study behaviour. He dealt her the last blow.

"Do you want me to describe the feeling of their spiky hairiness on my tongue in detail? Or were you leaving?"

With a huff, Hermione grabbed her books and left with a last exasperated look at him. Success! Draco gleefully thought about how he was going to tell Fafnir about this. He would laugh himself silly, the big lizard. 

* * *

><p>"Hi, erm, Draco, is it? I couldn't help wondering, why do you always look so grumpy? Don't you like school?"<p>

He should have ignored her - Hermione Granger. It was the second week at Hogwarts, and Draco had found a good spot on the third floor, far from the usual paths, to give Fafnir some time to stretch his wings. He didn't expect anybody to approach him here, in this hidden corner.

However, for some reason Draco felt compelled to answer. "I can't believe I'm here, going to school. Fafnir just said, 'where did the summer go?' There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want. Now, I'll have to go to classes and study every day. As if I need it. I'm already smart. They should give me my degree and send me back home. "

The girl first looked at him quizzically and then scanned the area where they were clearly alone. "Who's Fafnir?"

When Draco clamped his mouth shut, not making any effort to answer, she chatted on. "I, personally, couldn't wait for school to start. I got all the books and already read them, too. We'll be making new friends and learning important things. I'd never heard of Hogwarts or that there are schools for magic before my letter arrived. Had you?" Her excitement radiated in a way that almost made Draco jittery, but only almost, because, as he stared at her, what she had said connected in his mind.

"You never heard of Hogwarts before? What, did you grow up under a rock? Oh, wait, I got it. You're a Mudblood. Right?" He sneered. "No wonder you're not normal and look forward to going to school."

The smile on the girl's face froze, and then it vanished, making room for a frown with furrowed brow. Draco could see that she was tempted to ask for explanations because her mouth worked like a fish's. Her arm twitched at shoulder level, and Draco wondered if she was one of those teacher's pets who can never resist the temptation of answering a posed question. His sneer deepened, and it had the wanted effect. The girl huffed, turned her head away, and left, goose-stepping down the corridor, without another word. 

* * *

><p>Later, Draco sat in a quiet corner of the library, undetected. "Look at her go, Fafnir. She's carrying more books than should be healthy. It's a wonder her spine doesn't fold. When you put another book in front of her, she balances her pile and even picks up the one on the floor and adds it to her burden. She doesn't let anything stop her."<p>

He snorted. "How typical for a Mudblood, trying to catch up with what she should naturally know after years of growing up in a magical environment. And not using magic to levitate a book either."

"Don't you think you are a little harsh, Draco? She's just trying to be a good student," Fafnir replied quietly.

Draco shook his head in exasperation. "I just can't identify with that kind of work ethic. I'm a pureblood. She should do the work _for_ me." 

* * *

><p>"Hey, Granger. Did you have trouble with the potions essay?"<p>

Hermione shook her head in surprise that Draco the Slytherin addressed her after his brusque dismissals before but also a little bit pleased. "Not at all. Why?"

"I thought a few parts were tricky. Mind if I check my answers with yours?"

Hermione beamed. "Alright."

Draco smirked. "Okay, what did you get for question one?"

"7 ounces of dragon blood."

Draco quickly wrote it in the blank of his parchment. "Good, that's what I got. What did you get for question two?"

Hermione's eyes widened with the realization of how he was using her. "You didn't do your homework at all? You're copying your answers from me?" The notion of betrayal was written all over her face.

Draco sneered in response. "So? What else would a know-it-all Mudblood be good for?"

Her features darkened in response, and Hermione turned away with resolve. "Drop dead, Draco." 

* * *

><p>Draco's blood boiled under the surface. How dare she tell him to drop dead? He was one of the purest of the purebloods. He would make her pay. He would hex her to look like a harpy, not that it would take much to do that.<p>

What an annoying girl.

It was time to resurrect the Powerful Pureblood Warlock. He had a mission. As a predestined pureblood, he had the duty to rid the world of Mudbloods like this Granger girl. It was of utmost importance that he made her life a living hell, while keeping up his impeccable profile as the well-behaved Malfoy heir.

Deep in thought, Professor Flitwick's calling his name almost escaped his attention. "Mr Malfoy, what is the incantation for the elevation charm?"

Caught in his mindwaves, Draco stuttered, trying to find the right train of thought. "Um, hm, …"

Flitwick gave him a reprimand. "Try to pay more attention next time, will you?"

At the end of the lesson, Draco donned his cloak. It was an irony of fate that his godfather, Severus Snape, did it the same way to give himself an air of authority, which only showed Draco how utterly important he himself was. It was in his power to change the world. This was his task.

He made his way outside to find a way to spoil Hermione's day.

Leaving the classroom, he intentionally banged into Hermione, making her stumble and stop.

"It must be awful to be a Mudblood," he hissed with malicious glee. When Granger looked up with wide eyes, he continued with a sneer. "I'm sure it's frustrating knowing that purebloods are bigger, stronger, and better at magic than Muggleborns."

When she narrowed her eyes while looking at him, he sniggered. "Really, if you're a Mudblood, what would make you go on living?"

"The thought of beating someone like you in every lesson and test, you git," Granger hissed back.

"Ha, as if you could, stupid girl," Draco finished with a snarl and turned to go to the Great Hall for lunch. "Why don't you give us all a break and do away with yourself?"

Granger smiled sweetly. "Who would put you in your place if I wasn't here?" she said in a saccharine tone.

Draco turned back. "I'm already in the right place, unlike you, Mudblood."

Granger held his gaze without a blink. "We'll see about that," she said and turned away, in the direction of the Great Hall, effectively cutting of the conversation.

With a deep frown Draco looked after her. "You're gonna make the tooth fairy happy tonight, Granger," he mumbled an empty threat into thin air before proceeding to lunch himself. 

* * *

><p>"Psst"<p>

Severus Snape sat in his potions classroom, grading fifth year essays, tutting about the typical dunderheadedness of students in general, and some students in particular, when some noise disturbed him.

There is was again. "Pssssst."

"Who's there? Show yourself," he demanded fiercely and sent a Detection charm toward the door.

It turned out to be an 11-year-old boy, and subsequently Draco shoved himself into the classroom and closed the door.

Snape scowled. He hated being interrupted in his work, but he would make an exception for his godson, of course. "Draco, what is it?"

The boy stood in front of his desk, with hunched shoulders and a shifty look in his eyes. "Can you teach me the Reducto charm, Uncle Severus?"

"Standard spell for fifth year, Draco. Not yet."

Draco thought quickly. "How about a potion that blows up on contact?"

Snape shook his head. "There is one. But it's way too dangerous to hand to a first year student. By Salazar." He felt almost amused at the thought of a few students experimenting with it and blowing their hair off.

Draco huffed. "Well, I'm trying to blow a Mudblood girl I know into space, perhaps you have some suggestions?"

Snape stared at his godson as if he was seeing him for the first time. It seemed that, after all, Lucius instructions were remembered. After a disbelieving headshake, he tried to get rid of the immature boy.

"Draco, my boy. I'm a teacher. I can't help you. Go, just go. Do your homework, will you?"

Draco left grumbling, and Severus pondered what he could possibly do to curtail Draco's vivid imagination. 

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here? Didn't I just send you back to your common room to do your homework?"<p>

"Twisted fiend. No four walls of enchanted stone can hold _me_, the Awesome Augurer! You've been foiled, evil god-father bat."

"Is that right?" Snape lowered himself to Draco's eye level to give him the full effect of his piercing glare. Draco seemed to have gotten the message when he suddenly turned and started walking back.

"Great Bott, he must have fixed a mind-scrambling Confundus charm on me. I'm suddenly filled with the urgent desire to go back and do as he nefariously bids."

"I'm glad to hear it," Snape mumbled with a deep frown. He had to have a talk with Lucius. The boy's imagination hadn't folded one bit. Severus would still be on the lookout for his plagued god-son, lest other pureblood families hear about Draco's shortcoming. 

* * *

><p>Much later:<p>

"Look, Fafnir, a perfect buckeye." Draco had taken to walking his dragon close to the Forbidden Forest. He smuggled him, Disillusioned, out of the castle and, due to the fact that most students abided Dumbledore's request to avoid the forest, he'd found a perfect spot to be undetected. He was also able to avoid run-ins with the Annoying Girl. Speaking of which …

"It _is_ pretty. What are you going to do with it?" Fafnir asked, lazily hovering over his companion, his snout next to Draco's head.

Draco's face took on a sly look. "I'm keeping this one. I'm going to dent Granger's skull with it from 50 feet in the air, hehe."

Putting it in his pocket, he missed the fact that Fafnir hid his snout behind his front paws and shook his head in exasperation. 

* * *

><p>"Hey, Granger, how was your lunch today?"<p>

Hermione's face darkened as she became aware that her favourite table in the library was taken by none other than the boy she had come to loathe.

"Don't talk to me about lunch. I don't want to know what disgusting thing you had. In fact, don't even talk to me at all," she said with the deepest frown she could muster, while backing away.

Draco sniggered. "Relax, I wasn't going to say a word about my lunch. In fact, I was going to offer you a drink." He pointed to a flask next to him. "Care to join me?"

Hermione's face relaxed visibly. Even though she wasn't sure whether she should trust this mean boy's civil behaviour, she changed her direction and approached the table slowly. "Alright. What do you have there?"

Draco grinned smugly. "Well, that depends on whether you have some salt on you. You can swallow them just like that, but slugs are way more tasty and juicy when you shrivel them up first. Besides, I believe they pee, too. I would let you have the first taste, of course."

He thought the revulsion on her face was worth it.

"Way to go, Draco," Fafnir sniggered later in his dorm when he told him. "Barely arrived at school and already making the girls' heads turn. Not in the right direction, of course, but it's a start."

"Ha ha," Draco replied sourly, not at all pleased at Fafnir's reaction. "As if I wanted anything from a Mudblood girl like her." 

* * *

><p>"Wait! Oh, wait, I've got to savour this moment. She'll never expect a snowball in <em>September<em>. The brilliance of it, me, a pureblood of purest magical power, conjured a snowball from thin air, and I'm going to pelt her skull with it. Ha – haaa!"

Draco stalked through the deserted hallways of Hogwarts castle. The hallways were deserted because everybody was outside, enjoying the last sunrays of the late summer. It was a beautiful September weekend afternoon, and only Draco was up to some mischief. (And perhaps Fred and George Weasley, but this is not their story.)

When he detected her sitting alone by a grove of trees, a book in her lap, of course, he snuck up, closer and closer, hiding behind a tree here, a rock there, until he was right behind the tree she was sitting under. He barely hid a snicker while aiming and thought to himself 'This is going to be great. Here it comes, hehe.'

Yelling 'Hey Granger', he threw the snowball with all his might in her direction. It should have shattered right on her chest, sprinkling the book, her clothes, and her hair with flakes of snow in the process, soaking and shocking her – if only his aim had been better.

The snowball flew wide and landed right on the other side of her legs. He couldn't believe it. There went his career as a Chaser.

"I _missed_! Darn it, darn it, darn it! Of all the miserable luck! Aaarrrrgh!"

Missing Hermione's thunderstruck expression, he kept on complaining about his bad luck, because, of course, it couldn't have been his lack of talent, oh no. "She must have put a protection shield around herself. How can a Muggleborn have such talent already in first year? It's unheard of. Nobody could have known. I conjured this ball myself, showing the brilliance of my magical power …"

Lamenting, he missed Granger's wily reaction, when she scooped the splattered snow together to form a new ball. As soon as he looked up to take a breath, she threw the ball right in the middle of his dopey face.

With a victorious smile, she got up, gathered her books, and left him lying in a puddle of melting snow.

Fafnir laughed himself silly when Draco told him later. He had a bellyache for the rest of the day because of it. 

* * *

><p>'The Powerful Pureblood Warlock is on his way, another day trying to rescue the world as we know it from useless Muggleborns. Sitting in the classroom, cleverly disguised as his meek alter ego, Draco Malfoy, he tricks his target into believing he is completely concentrated on a History of Magic class, by fixing his ultra-strong eyeballs on the spiritual professor. Nobody would know that in reality he cleverly plots to hex the well-known Mudblood Granger with a Densaugeo charm, making her teeth grow so large she will trip and stumble to the ground where she belongs.'<p>

He hears a whisper. "Malfoy!"

'Aiming his wand at the back of his target's head, he prepares the incantation while looking straight at the front of the class …'

Again the whisper. "Malfoy!"

'_Den…_'

"Malfoy, if you so much as direct a sparkle of magic at me, I'll have you hauled to Dumbledore's office for disrupting a class so fast you'll think you were dropped by a giant into a Portkey office," the angry whisper interrupted his careful deliberation.

Draco looked down at his wand. 'Wandlock! Blast it! The spell is jammed.' 

* * *

><p>A lone student stood not far from the Forbidden Forest amongst the abundance of snowflakes falling silently on an already white landscape. He was building, forming, sculpting, creating forms from the white mass. Dressed in his warmest cloak, his hands covered in gloves, he lovingly shaped a curve here, a corner there, surrounded by his creation.<p>

The crunching of feet on freshly fallen snow announced a visitor.

"Let's see – a werewolf with what looks like a human leg hanging out of its chops, a Boggart in some ghastly form, a group of Dementors closing in, an Acromantula skewering a witch, I can see her uvula, her mouth is that wide open, a wizard torn apart by some spell or another, is that his nose over there, an Inferi, all standing around a decapitated unicorn with gore hanging out of its belly. I say, it's no wonder there's a Statute of Secrecy. If Muggles knew we magical people have weirdoes like you, they would lock us up."

Draco looked up from the unicorn leg he had just finished. Granger wore a red scarf over her cloak and had a wool hat pulled over her mass of hair, but there were still many strands poking out, standing up in all directions. Her nose was red from the cold, and her fists were clenched in her gloves, but her cheeks had a lovely rosy tone. Her face, however, expressed her repulsion, exasperation, and some kind of resigned understanding.

He drew his wand and cast a spell over his snow figures, making them look as if the by-standers leered and the almost dead unicorn twitched, its snow blood pumping out of its opened belly.

Smiling in satisfaction, he looked over his snow oeuvre and said, "When you grow up with monsters, you're used to seeing them everywhere."

Granger gave him a sidelong glance. After a minute, she replied, "Talking to you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out-of-body experience."

Then she shook her head and turned around to walk back to the castle. Draco stared after her for a long time, watching her retreating back, noticing how her cloak swished from one side to the other. To throw a snowball at her seemed more and more like a great idea. A white splotch would look excellent on the dark cloth of her cloak. With any luck, he would be able to knock her teeth out.

Why, he would need stupendous strength for a snowball throw so strong it would knock her teeth. This was a job for the Powerful Pureblood Warlock, Foe of Mudbloods and Defender of Pureblood Liberty.

With muscles of might, he rolled a snowball the size of a Quaffle and then summoned his broom. Wrapped tightly in his cloak, which he had straightened with the right authoritative swish, he got on his broom, up, up and awaaay, the snowball tucked tightly under his arm.

He followed Granger's footprints until he hovered right over his diabolical arch-fiend, Annoying Girl. Using his magnificent magical vision, he aimed, prayed to Merlin, and dropped the ball directly on her head. It burst with a big splash, muting Hermione's scream and covering her from head to toe in white, mushy wetness.

'A direct hit! Victory! PPW saved the day!

With Annoying Girl vanquished, the whirlwind wonder zooms back to resume his secret identity.'

Meek and mild-mannered Draco landed his broom on the Quidditch pitch and walked back to the castle at a casual stroll.

As soon as he reached the entrance hall, he was called aside by Professor McGonagall, who had a particularly stern face. "Mr Malfoy, will you come with me, please?" Turning toward the stairs, he saw Granger, wet and miserable in drenched clothes, waiting for her Head of House.

"It wasn't me," he countered immediately. "I was nowhere near Granger. I was on the Quidditch pitch, with my broom, see?" He held up his broom for proof but to no avail.

McGonagall gave him the look she seemed to reserve especially for bothersome Slytherins, and Draco had no choice but to follow her in doldrums, arguing all the way. "You got the wrong guy. I'm very mild-mannered. You need to look for the Powerful Pureblood Warlock, Magus of Magnitude. He likely threw a snowball. I'm sure Granger deserved it. Don't punish me, I've got nothing to do with it."

He shut up as soon as Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk and looked at him over her glasses. He knew he would get an earful - despite all his objections, he had been seen and identified as Draco Malfoy after all- and mate, did he ever. He was given the sixth degree with regards to respecting his fellow students, especially girls, the potential for injury when throwing a snowball from such great heights, he certainly hoped so, even though he didn't see anything obviously damaged in Granger's wet form, which by the way made him actually feel a smidgen of pity, she looked so miserably like a drowning cat, and for using his broom without asking permission. Subsequently, his broom was confiscated until further notice, based on his future behaviour, and he received detention with Mr Filch every night for the next month.

When he left McGonagall's office next to Granger, as soon as the door had closed behind them, she whispered, "Serves you right. You could have really hurt me."

Draco sneered back. "Who asked you, Mudblood? In case you haven't noticed, nobody likes you in this school, and that includes me first and foremost. I hope you suffer debilitating brain spell damage." 

Fafnir greeted him with,"She's cute, isn't she?" when Draco returned to his dorm room.

"Go away, you big, flying serpent," Draco grumbled. The way Granger had almost cried and tried very hard to hold her tears back before she ran off didn't sit right with him. When he told Fafnir what exactly had happened (Fafnir didn't like the cold and had preferred to stay inside), his companion became serious.

"That was very rude, Draco. You know better. I think you should apologize."

Draco winced. "Argh, isn't there a less obvious solution?"

Fafnir snorted. "Well, you can choose your option of _how_ to apologize: in person, by owl, by singing delivery, or, best, in person!"

Singing delivery made Draco think of Valentine's, which was coming up in two weeks, and Valentine's made him think of cards. "I know! I'll make her a card, see? A big red heart, with lace all around it." He conjured red card paper and cut a heart form with a Severing charm, then stuck some lace paper on it.

Fafnir smiled in response. "That's very sweet. I'm sure she'll like it."

Draco wrote on it: 'Granger, I despise you. Go drown in the lake. Say 'hi' to the Giant Squid while going under. Sincerely, Draco Malfoy' 

* * *

><p>The next time in the library, she cornered him with murder in her eyes.<p>

"Malfoy, you twat. You sent me a hate-mail Valentine with _black_ lace and a bunch of manure covered Screechsnap and Bubotuber."

Dumping it all on his lap, she screeched, much to the displeasure of Madam Pince, "So, there's a Valentine for you, you conceited twit."

The pandemonium that broke out when a pustule of the Bubotuber broke, splattering pus everywhere, so that all the other students sitting at Draco's table and Madam Pince tried to escape as quickly as they could, helped Hermione to get away without retribution. However, stomping back to her tower common room, Hermione thought with a hidden smile on her face, "A Valentine and flowers. Who would've thought?"

Draco snuck out just as quick while musing "She came to me. She likes me!" 

* * *

><p>The following weeks were spent exchanging pleasantries wherever they met in the hallway.<p>

"Hey, Granger, you're so ugly, I hear your mother does a glamour charm every time before she kisses you good-night. Oh, wait, she can't, right? Because she's a Muggle! What do Muggles do? Put bags over the heads of their ugly children?"

"Snuff it, Malfoy. Didn't you get the Bubotuber pus off your uniform? Because it stinks like you have dead animals in your shoes. Too powerless to do a proper Scourgify?"

Fafnir just shook his head. "It's shameless, the way you two flirt. And in public, too!"

Until one night, at the end of the second week, it stopped. Draco was rarely about, and when Hermione did see him he didn't pay any attention to her. In fact, she thought, Draco looked rather forlorn, as if he had lost his best friend.

Draco hadn't been quite wrong with his snide remark that nobody liked her at Hogwarts. While Hermione had found friends in her fellow Gryffindor's, Harry and Ron, shortly after Halloween last term, her tendency to show her ability to answer each and every question in class didn't make her popular with the other girls in her House or her classes.

Therefore, fleeing one day from the less than subtle remarks about one well-known "Know-it-all" from a group of popular girls, she hid herself in a girls' lavatory on the second floor. She was sure nobody would follow her here, as it was widely known that this bathroom was haunted. Hermione had met the resident ghost once or twice, but Myrtle hadn't minded her at all. If you had strong nerves, you were able to use the bathroom without being distracted by her whiny lamentations.

Hermione warded her feet, just in case, as Myrtle's bathroom was prone to flooding, a side effect of Myrtle's diving. But on this day, everything was dry. Surprisingly, not only was Myrtle absent, but in a corner behind the wash-basin, distorted by a curtain of shimmery air, lay a stack of ancient books. Hermione felt a strong impulse not to touch the books. They were likely the personal property of a professor, the impulse indicated - invaluable and simply briefly left behind. The professor would come back to collect them, once she noticed them missing, with a strong implication of punishment to whomever had touched the books in the meantime.

However, when books were involved, Hermione had a near insatiable curiosity. She scooted closer, half-step by shuffle, until she could see the titles on the spines. "Most Potente Potions" it said on one, and "How to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death" on another (which told her that Professor Snape wasn't as freakishly clever as he wished to appear – stealing book titles, I tell you).

Hermione gasped. She would kill for a peek in each of these books, normally well-guarded in the Restricted Section. While her mental alarms rang "Danger, alert, battle station, ahwooga, ahwooga, do not touch, imminent death or worse, expulsion from school upon discovery" in flashy red letters upon her brain waves, her hand stretched out to grab the book on top. For only a quick peek, of course. Nobody would see. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes ….

…until her fingers closed around a smooth, firm material that twitched and was certainly not a book but rather a limb.

Her eyes flew open, and she saw a Common Green Welsh in pocket format. Well, a big pocket, admittedly, Hagrid's coat would have one of the right size, but a dragon version smaller than the original, for sure. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and its tail swished back and forth, but it looked at her rather friendly. Her hand held it by a leg, and when it shook off her hold, it spread its wings and flew up to her shoulder to settle on it.

"Hello, there, fella," Hermione said surprised. "Looks like somebody forgot you in the bathroom. How strange. Hm, you're a pretty one." The little dragon preened, apparently flattered at her admiration. She stroked soothingly over his back, careful to avoid the spiky spine. "Look how smooth your hide is. Each scale painstakingly reproduced and shimmering. And you move. I can feel the muscles rippling under your hide. What an incredible piece of magic. Can you really fly?"

The dragon spread its wings again and flew a turn around the entire bathroom, up to the ceiling, dipping into every stall and out again, and back to her shoulder. Hermione laughed.

"That was beautiful. I wonder … well, …" Befuddled by the Repelling charm on the area, and the alarm bells still ringing in her head, Hermione couldn't think clearly about the fact that this magical wonder surely belonged to somebody. "Well, I can't quite think. But that's nothing a cup of tea with the house-elves won't fix. Let's go, my dragon."

She was of sound mind enough to put a Disillusionment charm on the miniature and stuff him into her book bag, which was always filled to the brim and pulled her down lop-sided. Then she made her way to the ground level where she knew the entrance to the kitchen was. 

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was a torn man. On one hand, he wanted to protect his god-son from the wrath of the Dark Lord should he return. Dumbledore was sure he would return, it was only a matter of time. Snape was certain that to be protected from the Dark Lord one had to give him little reason to be angry. Difficult as this was in any case, he was certain that a delusional Malfoy heir was reason enough for anger. Therefore, Draco's delusions regarding imaginary friends and imaginary powers had to stop.<p>

On the other hand, Severus wasn't really behind the Dark Lord's agenda anymore. Not only was Severus himself a half-blood, but so was Voldemort. Therefore, powerful beyond any wizard's dream as Voldemort was, his dogma lacked certain logic. Ever since Voldemort had done away with the better half of the Potter family, a hole in Severus' heart was not to be filled, and certainly not with a non-sensical doctrine.

He was, therefore, not quite of a set mind when it came to purging Draco of his delusions. For this reason, Severus was not quite as thorough as he would usually have been when hiding Draco's dragon companion. He had snuck the miniature from Draco's bed without anyone knowing (He was the Slytherin House master, after all. Even the older students were not sneakier than he.) When hiding it, however, he had been a little, let's say, distracted.

Meeting Aurora Sinistra on his way, while floating a disillusioned miniature dragon in front of him (how would it have looked if he had i carried /i something invisible around?), had made him a little nervous, especially when the attractive witch had tried to engage him in a conversation he didn't want. Finding a hiding place, therefore, had been cut short, his time run out before Draco was finished with his detention, and he had dashed into the nearest girl's bathroom, certain that Draco would never search there, and masked the dragon's presence with powerful charms.

It was short-sighted, he knew, to simply take this imaginary friend away from Draco. For all he knew, Draco could continue to pretend. That's what imaginary friends were all about. But unlike Narcissa, Severus very much believed in the power of ripping out short-comings like old plasters. The boy had to start somewhere, somewhen. 

* * *

><p>Draco was one morose boy. He had looked everywhere in the castle, but Fafnir was nowhere in sight. He had started with every dorm in Slytherin House, even the girls' dorms, then expanded his search to the entire dungeon, the kitchen area, the entire lower floors and up to the library floor.<p>

He didn't bother instigating other House members to look in their dorms. He couldn't imagine that anybody _but_ a Slytherin had taken Fafnir from him. Only Slytherins could get into Slytherin dormitories, and no Slytherin in his right mind would conspire with another House member to do a prank.

Ergo, a Slytherin had taken Fafnir and hidden him as well. Unless, it had been a teacher. Somehow, he couldn't imagine any teacher going to that length to take a (disillusioned) toy from a first-year student's bed. It didn't make sense.

What also didn't make sense was why Fafnir had disappeared altogether. Unless Fafnir was hiding himself, and Draco didn't put it past him. Still, Fafnir would never stay away so long as to make Draco really worried about not finding his friend again.

Fafnir had been taken, Draco was sure of it.

When he moved toward the Grand Staircase to go down and give the Great Hall another look, Granger came from the other side and went the same way.

"Hi, Draco, want to join us for a cup of tea?" she chirped.

Draco glowered at the exuberant, annoying girl. Witch, he corrected himself. Girl, his higher conscience smacked him over the brain. Alright, Girl, Draco admitted and deepened his scowl. "Heck, no, Granger. I'm trying to find my best friend, erm, hm, something very special to me. Somebody took it from my dorm, and now I'm wasting my precious time walking all over the castle trying to find it, and your interference is not helping. Leave me alone."

With that he turned and made his way down the staircase at a brisk pace, leaving the affronted Hermione behind. After a minute, when Draco had disappeared around a corner, she shook herself, ridding the last remains of the Repellent charm in the process, and said to the invisible hovering dragon next to her, "Well, I think i Mr /i Malfoy was very rude, don't you, my dragon? Yes, I think so, too. Let's go get that tea, shall we?"

When she reached the kitchen, the house-elves were only too happy to provide her with tea, and biscuits to boot, and Hermione proceeded to lift the Disillusionment of the magical miniature. Sighing happily, she stirred two sugars and a drop of milk into her infusion, missing the puzzled looks the house-elves threw each other regarding the miniature on top of their worktable.

"Misssss …," started one, only to be stopped by an older version with a stomp on its foot.

"Shhh," the older elf said. "We does not meddle in the humans' matters. Perhaps the Malfoy boy has _given_ her his dragon. He seems to like her. Go, Shappy do the dishes."

The younger elf let his ears droop and trudged over to sink full of dishes, only too aware that he was going to miss all the fun.

Just when Hermione picked up one of the delicious biscuits to take a bite, the kitchen portal opened again, and Draco Malfoy came in, his head low and all energy gone out of him. Without looking up, he addressed the house-elves. "Elves, I have a request. A dragon miniature that was a dear gift to me was taken, and I wondered if you would help me locate it within the … Granger?"

Before he could say "castle", Draco had looked up when some of the house-elves had coughed abashedly and looked right at Granger with a biscuit and – Fafnir.

"Fafnir!" he exclaimed. "You found him, Granger! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank youthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou." He hugged Hermione tightly where she sat, then grabbed his dragon over the top of the table and turned to leave. He said a quick "Never mind" to the house-elves and left the kitchen as quickly as Devil's Snare faced with fire.

"Well," a dumbstruck Hermione said, to the kitchen in general and to the house-elves specifically, without expecting an answer. "Wasn't Mr Malfoy happy that he got his dragon back? I hope …"

She stopped when her gaze fell onto the platter. "Hey, who took all the biscuits?" 

* * *

><p>On the way back to the dorm, Draco berated his dragon. "What happened to the Mandibles of Death, you sissy serpent? Why didn't you eat her, hm? She's a Muggleborn. We despise Muggleborns."<p>

Fafnir grinned back. "Doesn't apply to me. She liked my hide - and my flying skills. I was beguiled by her feminine charms. You're just jealous. Go soak your head…ooh, what a babe." He sighed happily.

"Oh, Uncle Severus. Can you imagine? Somebody took Fafnir away, but I got him back. Granger found him."

Coming around a corner, on his way back to his quarters, Severus Snape stumbled over Draco and his very obvious dragon miniature. The Potion Master grimaced; clearly, he hadn't considered that there would be clever girls who could break through his charm this quickly. His grimace didn't look unnatural at all since he usually had a reason to grimace at one dunderhead or another.

Draco went on. "I think somebody is out there, trying to take Fafnir away from me; perhaps to hold him for ransom. I searched the entire castle, and I found him with Granger. Whoever wants to separate us has to get up earlier than that. We are inseparable. A team. One day we'll rule the world, together. Good night, Uncle Severus. I'm going to bed."

Snape looked after him with a strange look on his face. "Yes, my boy, I also wish you could be 11 years old all your life, lost in your daydreams," he mumbled to himself. 

* * *

><p>Draco didn't go to bed. He snuck with Fafnir under his arm up to the Astronomy tower and spent a few more hours looking at the stars.<p>

"When you look at the stars and imagine you're out there and look back on our world, you know it's just a tiny speck in the infinite reaches of space. You have to wonder about the mysteries of creation. Aren't we all part of a great design, no more or no less important than anything else in the universe, where everything else fits together and has a purpose, a reason for being?" Draco's tiny voice carried softly over the quiet night air.

Fafnir took the time to exhale an entire lung-full. "Yes, one would think so," he finally replied calmly.

"And if we have a purpose, what's this business of death? If we're just going to die, what's the point of living?"

"You heard about Hannah Abbott's mum, did you?"

Draco nodded. "She was a Muggle."

"Yes." Fafnir nodded, too.

"She had a purpose."

"Yes," Fafnir replied.

"So, what's the point of taking her back so soon?"

Fafnir looked at his human friend. "You tell me, Draco".

"She was a Muggle."

Fafnir nodded. "Yes, you said that."

"Is that reason enough?" Draco kept staring out into the night.

"Do you want to hear my opinion, Draco?" Fafnir asked after another contemplative pause.

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"I think it's either mean or arbitrary that somebody leaves early, and either way it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Draco nodded his confirmation that he heard. "As long as you don't go anywhere."

Fafnir hugged his friend. "Don't worry. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Draco hugged him back fiercely. "Why do we have to have these talks in the dead of the night?" he asked when they'd taken their places again.

Fafnir chuckled. "Because then the distraction of the usual noise on your thoughts is gone."

"Noise?"

Fafnir shrugged. "Parents' induction, teachers' blabbering, friends' opinions – it's all silent and you can give room to what you _really_ think."

Draco smiled. "You want to know what I really think?"

Fafnir grinned. "Sure."

"I think I want to be a millionaire when I grow up."

Fafnir chuckled again. "You'll have to work really hard if you want to do that."

Draco shook his head. "No, not me, my father."

Fafnir barked a laugh. "Excuse me?"

Draco smirked. "I just want to inherit it."

"Would that make you happy?" Fafnir asked with a smug smile.

"Sure," Draco replied with a shrug. "With money, you can buy power and fame, and that would make me happy. Isn't that what the Dark Lord does?"

Fafnir shook his head in amusement. "If you ask me, happiness cannot be bought."

Draco looked up at his draconian friend. "What would make you happy? If you could have anything you want?"

Fafnir stretched out against the battlement behind him and then flinched away from the touch of the cold stone. "A big sunny field to be in."

"A big sunny field? You can have that any boring day! Think big, think riches, power. Pretend you could have iany/ithing," Draco exclaimed.

Fafnir sat with a big, goofy grin on his face, entirely at peace with the world in the contemplation of _his_ happiness.

Draco grumbled. "It's hard to argue with somebody who looks so satisfied. So, you mean using magic to increase your power is the wrong way to go?"

Fafnir sighed happily. "Entirely. More power means more responsibility, and I don't know anybody who could live up to it."

"Not the Dark Lord?"

"Especially not the Dark Lord!"

Draco harrumphed, but he couldn't help seeing what Fafnir meant.

"You know, I hate these talks under the vastness of the stars. All you can do is sit here and imagine what's going to go wrong during the day, being the powerless little speck you are," he said.

And then, they sat for a few long moments, watching the stars twinkle and shine.

"Fafnir?"

"Hm?"

"Are you ever going to get married?"

Fanfir contemplated for a moment. "Hm, if the right girl came along, I might." Looking off into the distance, he indulged in his fantasies. "Somebody with smooth scales and green eyes and a nice laugh, who I could call 'Softie paw'."

Draco was appalled. "Softie paw?"

"Or 'Bitsy Pookums'," Fafnir added with a big, dreamy grin.

"Yech, that affects my gag reflex a lot more than my feelings," Draco replied with a grimace.

Fafnir didn't pay him any mind. "'Bitsy Pookums', I'd say. 'Yes, Snoogy Woogy,' she'd reply …," he kept dreaming aloud, ignoring that his human friend's face was temporarily stuck on a setting that implied indecent puking if more words of this kind were spoken.

After another pause, during which Fafnir hummed happily, Draco spoke again.

"Granger is the smartest girl in school."

"Yes." Fafnir agreed.

"And she's a Muggleborn." Draco harrumphed again. "I'm never gonna get married. It's hopeless."

Fafnir chuckled quietly. "Draco, do you believe in God?"

"Well, somebody's out to get me, up there," Draco groused.

Fafnir laughed again. "You know, my friend, you have no common sense, that's your problem."

"I have plenty of common sense," Draco argued. "I just choose to ignore it."

The tinkling laughter of two friends united under the stars could be heard all the way to Gryffindor tower. 

* * *

><p>" … and Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy on the planet Mercury. That's all, class. Essays are due next week. Remember, no less than two rolls of parchment." Professor Sinistra clapped in her hands and released the class.<p>

Draco sat stock still in his chair until the class had filed out.

Hermione built herself up in front of his desk. "Meet me in the library after the last class today," she said with a sneer.

When Draco didn't move a muscle, she waved her hand in front of his open and straight-staring eyes. "Hello, anybody home?"

Enervated by her movement in his personal space, Draco said morosely, "I can't believe we were assigned to do a project together."

Hermione huffed. "All I can say is you'd better do a great job. I don't want to flunk because I was assigned a conceited pureblood for a partner."

"Conceited pureblood? That's an oxymoron. We have natural poise, and we are entitled, that's all," Draco argued.

"Entitled for a kick in the butt if you don't do your part. I'll meet you in the library, capisce?" Hermione gave back.

"I don't take orders from Mudbloods." Draco sneered.

Hermione got in his face with her eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't care who you 'take orders from' like an idiot. You'll meet me in the library to research this project together, or Professor Sinistra will hear about this."

Then she turned so that Draco got a swish of her long hair (it smelled like strawberries, he noticed, and was softer than he expected) and goose-stepped out of the room.

He huffed, aggravated, and swore to himself he would boycott this project and drive Granger insane if it was the last thing he would do. 

Draco was going for stupidity. He was certain it would drive Granger nuts.

"So, what do we have to do?"

Hermione breathed evenly in and out, to calm her nerves. "Weren't you even paying attention? We are supposed to be researching the planet Mercury and how its different orbital eccentricity affects the seasons on it differently than on Earth."

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "And what have we found out?" 'She is already trying to stay calm', he thought. 'It's working.'

"Nothing!" Granger replied fiercely. "Because I refuse to do the whole project alone!"

Draco sneered. "You'd probably goof it all up. You need pureblood management telling you what to do. Let's get started. You'll be the labourer. Go, get the books. You carry half the library around most of the time anyway."

Hermione jumped up in upset and yelled through the library, "Does anybody want to trade partners?"

Wrangled back in her seat, she was silenced by Madam Pince, who told her in no uncertain terms that, should she yell one more time, she would be excluded from the library for the rest of her school years, and that was only because she had such a good record so far; normally, Madam Pince had Mr. Filch take care of rule-breakers. Receiving pitying looks from her cohort, who wouldn't trade with her if their life depended on it, Hermione shook in anger, stood, packed her bag and left the library with the research materials, indicating for Draco to follow her. She led him all the way to the Room of Requirements, where a table with a lamp and two chairs materialized. She sat down.

"Why do you have to be so dead-set on making my life difficult?" she asked through clenched teeth when he sat across from her.

Draco lazily examined his fingernails – impeccable as usual, he decided. "Because you are a Muggleborn, and I am supremely superior as a pureblood. That's the way of life."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then took the opportunity by the horns. "Then how do you explain that I have better grades?"

He sneered. "Luck, and the fact that you are the teachers' pet."

She kept on. "I study hard. How could I be the teachers' pet when in "the way of the world's" opinion I'm so far beneath you? Seems that people beg to differ from that opinion."

He snorted. "Blood traitors or Muggle-lovers."

She smiled, on to something. "So, in your mind, the world exists in black and white, is that correct? You either believe in the superiority of purebloods or you don't, in which case you're wrong. What are the consequences for being wrong?"

"Um," Draco said. He didn't want to follow her arguments, she was a Muggleborn, she could never be right or even logical, but it was easy enough to follow. To this question, however, he didn't have an immediate answer. "Well, you are being snubbed by the people who count, excluded from good company."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "The punishment for not believing the way you do is to not be invited to your parties?" When he didn't reply, she said with a wicked smile, "You know what, I can live with that – very well, to be honest. I have my own friends."

Draco turned his sinister gaze on the witch in front of him. How dare she make fun of his value system? "The punishment for not believing as we do is death."

Hermione adjusted her face to the seriousness of his message. "I know, Malfoy. I heard the news about Hannah's mother. This seems to apply to everybody who doesn't fit into your 'scheme.'" She held his gaze with the equal intensity. If this had been a romantic situation, the air would likely have crackled.

"Tell me, Malfoy. Does this system only apply to outsiders? Or is it possible that _insiders_ might also be affected?"

Draco held his breath. She couldn't know the pressure he was under. She couldn't know what was going to happen to his parents if he didn't fulfil his task. She couldn't know!

"What are you playing at?" he whispered spitefully.

She licked her lips. "I mean, Draco, that you don't look so good. There are dark circles under your eyes, and you look like you haven't slept through a night since the beginning of the school year."

He leaned closer, even though it wasn't necessary. "Fafnir growls at night. You know him. Do you think you would sleep well next to a fire-breathing, badly dreaming dragon?"

Granger leaned a little back, her eyes shining with mirth. "Fafnir, is it?"

Draco kept his posture and held her gaze. "Yes. He wakes me up, each and every night. It's no wonder I never look rested."

Granger looked a little smug, for some reason Draco couldn't identify. "And why, may I ask, do you not make him sleep somewhere else, where he cannot wake you up? In front of your bed, for example?"

Draco scoffed. "He's warm, and warmth is hard to come by in Slytherin territory. Besides, he's my best friend. Would you make your best friend sleep before your bed like a dog? By the way, that's too close to where the monsters are. I'm not going to feed my friend to monsters, no matter what you believe of me. Would you?"

Granger raised her eyebrows until they almost disappeared in her hairline. "Monsters?"

"Monsters," Draco confirmed. "Big, fat, slobbering, children-devouring monsters. Never had them under your bed, Granger?"

Granger shrugged but luckily decided not to look smug. "Sure, when I was four years old. However, at one point they disappeared."

"Yeah." Draco sneered. "Mine didn't. They are still there."

"Monsters." Granger held his gaze, but there was no ridicule. He could see how her brain waves churned, working, thinking up a solution.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Monsters."

"You know…," she finally spoke hesitantly, "… my monsters disappeared when I stopped believing in them. Stopped believing what they told me, about coming to them and getting the great toys. When I stopped believing what they promised me would come true. And you know, light shrivels them up. If you let 'more light' into your life, they may stop coming to you."

Draco nodded slowly. "They may. But consider what it would require from me. I know you don't like to ride brooms, but can you imagine what happens when you change direction in mid-flight?"

She shrugged. "I know Harry can do it. That's how he caught the snitch several times before you. And I know the sun changes direction on planet Mercury in the middle of the day."

Draco looked at the witch as if he'd seen her for the first time. A matter of perspective, was it?

"Will you help me, Granger?"

She shook her head. "No. You have to help yourself."

Smartest witch her age, his left foot. 

* * *

><p>In the midst of the hullabaloo in Malfoy Manor's drawing room, while pulling Hermione up from the floor, Draco screamed, "I've got her wand! I've got her wand! Run, Hermione, run!"<p>

"Draco! Draco, come back here!"

"No! No, Father. I won't come back. I've made my decision. What did you say? To become a master, I have to be decisive, indomitable, and firm. I've made my decision, I won't be swayed from it and I'm firm: I will i not /i follow in your footsteps. I don't live on honey and fairy cakes, but I'll never like Kelpie pie. And the way of the world? What's expected of me? I'll tell you what's expected of me: to be happy. To spread happiness, to have a wife who loves me, and to further the well-being of _everybody_."

With a last look to his parents, he turned to follow Hermione out, while his Aunt Bellatrix lay choking on the carpet, and his mother, who was bent over her sister, cast him a surreptitious smile. As a parting shot, he proclaimed, "And that's what I'm going to do. You're welcome to share it with me, but only if you leave this lot behind. Aunt Bella, never a pleasure, I hope to never see you again. So long, folks."


	3. Epilogue

**Chapter 3: Epilogue**

* * *

><p>Somewhere far off, in a little used room of the Tonks house, a miniature dragon, snugly tucked into his place atop (but never in, as a matter of pride, you understand. He could still blow away the dust should it settle on his hide) the hope chest - where his Mistress saved all of the other gifts and mementos from her beloved Ted- curled up for a well-earned sleep.<p>

_*Sigh* Took them long enough._

"Dragon?" The older witch with long brown hair and an uncanny similarity to Bellatrix Lestrange poked her head around the door frame. The miniature dragon lifted its head.

"Any news?" The miniature dragon nodded excitedly.

The witch smiled. "Oh, good. Will you show me?"

The dragon sat up again, while the witch took a nearby chair and settled. The dragon lifted his head and projected a vision through his eyes, not unlike an extracted memory in a pensieve, of a lone young couple on a beautiful beach, watching the sunset.

* * *

><p><em>"Draco?"<em>

_"Hm?"_

_"Would you have married me if your snowball had knocked out one of my eyeballs?"_

_"No."_

_"So, you wouldn't have taken responsibility for the damages you yourself would have done?"_

_"Of course not. I'm Draco Malfoy."_

_She huffed. "As if that explains anything. And yet, sadly, it does. Then I'm glad the snowball didn't do any lasting damage."_

_There was a pause._

_"Hermione?"_

_"What?"_

_"You hit me first."_

_"What?"_

_"When I gave you that Valentine's card and the flowers, you hit me with a snowball. Do I complain?"_

_"It was another hate-mail card, like the one in first year, and a bunch of flowers you ripped from the compost behind Greenhouse 3. Every girl would have been offended. I thought you liked me!"_

_"I did! I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble if I didn't. I was only 13 years old!"_

_Hermione inhaled deeply, imploring the powers that be to grant her inner peace._

_"Hermione?"_

_"What, Draco?" she said on a deep exhale. Inner peace, inner peace._

_"Would you have married me if I had knocked your eyeballs out with the snowball?"_

_"One or both?"_

_"Does it matter?"_

_"No."_

_"See? Then I'm also glad that the snowball didn't do any lasting damage. Besides your changed hairstyle that is. I could have sworn your hair was smoother before the snowball."_

_"Draco?"_

_"Yes, dear?"_

_"Shut up and enjoy the sunset with me."_

_"Yes, dear."_

* * *

><p>"Aaah." Andromeda Tonks sighed, satisfied. "He's on his way, then. Severus, did you see?"<p>

The dark-haired inhabitant of the wizarding portrait on the opposite wall snorted. "How could I not? Yes, yes, before you ask, I'm glad Draco didn't land in the clutches of Voldemort, and that he finds happiness with the Granger girl, even though she's an insufferable, Muggleborn Know-it-all."

Andromeda looked at him thoughtfully. "Lily was Muggleborn."

"Do you have to bring her up?" Snape bit back. Andromeda gave him an admonishing look.

"Hermione is a good girl. She'll keep Draco straight, and, with any luck, she'll make him come here, to get to know the rest of his family. Me and little Teddy."

Severus winced. "I guess I shall be happy to see him if she manages that."

Andromeda smiled up at his painting. "I'll let her know that there will be more than one person happy to see her and her husband come to visit." She turned to the little miniature on her left. "Thank you, dragon. Your Wu magic is impeccable. I'm so glad you were able to right Draco's path, at least."

She got up. "Get some rest. I'm sure it was exhausting to deal with Draco's antics, even though you've had 10 years to work on recuperating. Instilling a conscience is a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

The little dragon nodded, and Andromeda smiled.

All's well that ends well.

* * *

><p>The END<p>

* * *

><p><em>Apologies for the delay in posting the last part. RL has me in its clutches and times a-running. The fic is now complete. Enjoy<em>


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